


A Hair Raising Tale

by Selenay



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff without Plot, Hair, Kissing, M/M, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil had seen the video footage but somehow the grainy images hadn't conveyed the full magnificence, if it could be called that, of what he was seeing.</p>
<p>Clint closed the door and leaned back against it with a grin. "Hi. Miss me?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hair Raising Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this selection of gifs](http://selenay936.tumblr.com/tagged/fluffy-renner) and a discussion with my beta over the fluffy nature of the hair in them. Forgive me.

It was late in the afternoon and Phil had been waiting, mostly patiently, all day for a certain quick tap at his office door followed immediately by the door opening. In the early days of his assignment as Clint's handler, Phil had spent months trying to get him to knock on the door at all. He'd finally conceded that knocking _as_ Clint opened the door was the best he'd ever achieve.

Phil put his pen down when he heard the familiar pattern of taps and he was already starting to smile when the door opened. The smile froze into something he suspected wasn't entirely welcoming. Probably closer to horrified.

He'd seen the video footage but somehow the grainy images hadn't conveyed the full magnificence, if it could be called that, of what he was seeing.

Clint closed the door and leaned back against it with a grin. "Hi. Miss me?"

Phil nodded, not quite trusting his voice yet, and Clint's eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Didn't you expect me? I thought they were keeping you in the loop."

"I expected you," Phil said carefully.

He still couldn't drag his eyes away from...it.

Clint's face showed his confusion for a moment and then he seemed to realise what Phil was staring at. He put a hand to his hair and grimaced.

"Yeah, about this," he started and then couldn't seem to continue.

"It's very...fluffy," Phil said diplomatically.

There was a dull thunk as Clint tipped his head back and hit it lightly against the door. "Fluffy?"

Phil shrugged. "I can think of some other adjectives if you'd prefer."

"I knew I should have got Nat to cut it before I came up here."

"It's not that bad."

Clint snorted. "You just called it fluffy. I'm pretty sure that means it's that bad."

"Not bad," Phil said carefully. "Not exactly _bad_. More...startling. And fluffy."

"Can you quit with the fluffy?" Clint said in a tone that was almost, but not quite, a whine.

"Maybe."

Phil rose to his feet, stepped around his desk, and tried not to feel aware of Clint's eyes on him as he crossed the room. It was difficult to ignore that intense gaze or the slow smile that curved Clint's lips when Phil halted within easy touching distance.

"Hey, boss," Clint drawled. "You're walking again."

"You've been away for three months. Broken legs heal."

"Does that mean you're back as my handler again?" Clint asked. "Not that I don't like Sitwell, but he doesn't flirt with me over the comm."

"I don't flirt with you over the comm either," Phil said, his eyes still fixed on Clint's hair. "It would be unprofessional."

"Yeah, but at least when it's you in my ear there's a chance that you _might_ flirt over the comm," Clint said. "Would you stop staring at my hair? I'll get it fixed tomorrow."

"It's hard to look away," Phil said absently.

He reached out and carefully patted Clint's hair. It was soft and a little bit springy, as though it was fighting against whatever Clint had been using to tame it down. Usually Clint's hair was only just long enough for Phil to catch it in his fingers, not this thick mane. It normally stood up in short messy spikes when Clint first woke up and in wet messy spikes after he'd showered and Phil was fairly sure Clint had started using product to maintain the perfect level of messy just because he knew how much Phil liked it.

This hair was thick and long, more than long enough for Phil to bury his hands in it and tangle it between his fingers. He didn't even realise that he was slowly petting Clint's hair until Clint made a low sound in his chest that was almost a purr.

There was a lazy smile on Clint's lips and for a moment his eyes fluttered shut. Then they opened again and fixed Phil with a glare.

"Are you petting me?" he asked. "I'm not a cat, Phil."

"You are very fluffy, though," Phil said with a small smile.

"That's it, I'm going to find Nat and a pair of scissors," Clint declared.

Phil slowed his strokes slightly, pressing a little more firmly so that it was more of a caress than a petting motion, and Clint leaned into his hand for a moment before noticing what he was doing.

"Do we need to make a trip to the pound at the weekend?" Clint asked.

He was probably trying to sound stern and irritated but his voice had gone rough and his hands had drifted to Phil's hips, pulling him in closer. Phil let his smile widen as he buried both hands in Clint's hair.

"You know we can't adopt anything," Phil said. "We're never around enough."

Clint grinned. "I'm still not a cat substitute."

"You get into everything you shouldn't be in, you take up more space than the laws of physics say you should, and you lick my nose." Phil shrugged. "It's hard to tell the difference sometimes."

"One time!" Clint protested. "I accidentally licked your nose one time. You're never forgetting that, are you?"

"You licked my nose," Phil pointed out. "That's hard to forget."

"See, if you keep pushing the nose thing then I'm not going to licking _anything_ tonight," Clint said cheerfully. "Which would be a shame, but hey, I just spent eight hours in a military transport with Sitwell and Natasha so I could use some sleep."

His yawn was overly dramatic and obviously fake, his eyes danced with humour, and Phil couldn't stop the chuckle that forced its way out. This had been what he'd missed, Clint being ridiculous and making him laugh. He'd missed it almost more than the sex and the warm body in his bed.

"You think that's a threat I won't carry out," Clint said, his voice shaking with the effort to stay serious when he obviously wanted to join Phil's laughter, "but I-"

The rest of his words were lost when Phil tightened his grip on Clint's hair to hold him in place and kiss him. Clint tried to keep talking for a moment, he always did, but then he slid his arms under Phil's jacket and pulled him closer. It was that moment of complete surrender that never failed to undo Phil, to make something hot and primal leap in his chest even though he tried to pretend he was too civilised for that.

Clint groaned long and low when Phil swept his tongue into Clint's mouth, tasting coffee and chocolate and a hint of mint. This was right, this was what he'd been craving for three months: Clint's taste and scent surrounding him, Clint's fingers scratching at his shirt and digging into his muscles.

Clint's quiet whimper as he rolled his hips against Phil's thigh.

Phil used his grip on Clint's hair to tilt his head back so he could press kisses down Clint's throat and suck at the skin just under the neck of Clint's t-shirt.

When he looked up, Clint's lips were red and wet and his eyes were dazed.

"You were saying?" Phil asked.

His voice wasn't quite the dry, unruffled tone he was trying for but Clint swallowed visibly anyway.

"I've got no idea," Clint said thickly. "What were we talking about?"

Phil smiled and released his grip on Clint's hair, which somehow looked even bigger and fluffier now. He tried to pat it down a little but Clint snorted and grabbed his wrist.

"Is this a thing for you?" Clint asked.

"It's so-"

"Fluffy, I get it." Clint sighed. "I'll get some scissors."

"Grippable," Phil said with a sly smile. "I was going to say, it's so grippable."

"Is that even a word?"

"You know what I mean."

"Huh." Clint wetted his lips, the gesture just a little bit too slow to be unconscious. "You want me to keep it for a couple of days?"

"You could, if you wanted to."

"Want me to run downstairs and pick up my cover ID's wardrobe as well?"

"No," Phil said firmly.

He'd seen the photos, he didn't need to see the badly fitting suits again. They made his fingers itch to either burn them or send Clint to a tailor.

"Good, because those things were so uncomfortable they should be illegal." Clint grinned. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"There's nothing that can't wait until next week."

"Great." Clint's wide smile and the way he rolled his hips against Phil's left no doubt about his intentions. "Why don't we get out of here? We can talk more about my very fluffy-"

"Grippable."

"-fluffy and grippable hair," Clint finished.

"That sounds perfect," Phil said and he pressed a kiss to the corner of Clint's mouth just to make sure Clint knew how perfect it sounded.


End file.
